Part of your World
by Periwinkle Fox
Summary: What happens when an ordinary fangirl wakes up in a world where the monster that lives under the bed isn't just a story to scare little kids into sleeping? What happens when she realizes that she knows exactly where she is, with no idea how to get home? Follow her as she meets her favorite fictional characters and realizes how hard being a hunter really is. T for language ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Oh look, another fanfic. So basically I want to clear se things up before we even start. **

**I'm Fox.**

**This story will probably suck because I haven't edited it yet and so I'm sorry about all the typos that are bound to be in here.**

**Reviews make my day!**

**This will be multichap, but probably not much longer than 5 chapters.**

**I'll try and update frequently, but school starts up again soon, so it may be like a week between updates. I'll try and make a schedule. Maybe I'll always update at least one chapter by Sunday? I don't know, I'll get back to you on that.**

**Okay, now for the story!**

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I smiled as I clicked off my lamp then slid into bed. I propped up my pillow and leaned back, grabbing my laptop and cracking it open. I popped my earbuds into my ears, then hit play and was immediately greeted by the sound of the song 'Carry on My Wayward Son' by Kansas. I smiled as the words The Road So Far appeared on the screen, and I was lost in yet another episode of Supernatural.

I marathoned for a good six hours. After 8 episodes, I looked up to see it was 3 am. my eyes had started to grow heavy, but I clicked play on yet another episode. I had already watched this episode, but I was re watching all the episodes in anticipation of the season 10 release. I was super pumped, and I wanted to re watch the whole series. I had done the same thing for season 8 and season 7, and I figured it had become a tradition.

I was making progress on season 8 when I figured I should probably get to bed. My back had started to ache, and I had to be up early the next day, my mom was forcing me to go back-to-school shopping for things like notebooks and pencils.

I groaned when I thought about going back to school. I hated having to deal with people, except for my friends. Most days, I wished I could just disappear. Better yet, I wished I could melt away into the world where demons and monsters exist, but so do people like Sam and Dean, people who hunt down and kill the things that go bump in the night.

I sighed, then gave myself a reality check. I was a sixteen year old girl who lived in suburban Virginia, and no amount of wishing would get me any further than a mental hospital.

I checked my tumblr for any messages, then closed the laptop, plugging it in. I closed my eyes, and within ten minutes, I was lost to the waking world.

It felt like I had only been sleeping for a moment when I woke up on a bench in a sunny park. I jerked up, looking around. Where was I? I looked down to see I was still in the green tanktop and black shorts I had fallen asleep in. I looked up again and realized I recognized this park, I had seen it somewhere. I stood up, and felt the grass through my bare toes. I walked around, trying hard to remember where I had seen this place before.

I looked across the park to see a man walking with a pretty woman. He was saying something to her, when he buckled over. The woman screamed, and I rushed over to see that his heart had literally lept out of his chest. Suddenly, everything hit me like a train. I recognized this park, because I had seen it last night. This was the episode I had left off on, season 8 episode 8. I had watched the first ten minutes, but had been too tired to continue.

I pinched my arm, hard. This must be a dream. I had been sleeping, and I must have just not woken up. I had some really graphic dreams last week, maybe this was just another dream. There was no other explanation.

I walked back to the bench and sat down, putting my head in my hands. This was just a dream, I told my self over and over. I would wake up safe and sound in my bed, in my normal, boring life.

A breeze blew in, and I shivered, remembering that I was in my pajamas still. Never before had I been so glad I slept in a bra.

If this was a dream, maybe dream world rules applied. A few months prior, I had read an article about lucid dreaming. It had said that there were strategies to know if you were dreaming. One of them was to look at your hands and see if you had five fingers on each hand. I held my arms out and examined my fingers. All of them were there. I frowned. If I had remembered correctly, the next strategy was to find a clock. If I looked at it, then looked back, the times should be completely different.

I looked over towards the road and saw a shopping center, and in the middle, I saw a clock tower. I looked at the clock, and it read 11:27. I turned my head, then looked agin. Still 11:27. I blinked. No change.

I wasn't dreaming.

This was real.

I looked around again, breathing in fresh air. I was in the Supernatural Universe. Then, a thought occurred to me. Here, there were angels. Specifically, Castiel. I could try and pray to him. He probably wouldn't come, from what I remember, right now he's with Sam and Dean, deciding to be a hunter. But what if I could reach out to him? What if I could tell him what has happened? Maybe he could send me home. In season six, Balthazar had done something similar with Sam and Dean.

So I closed my eyes, and started to pray. "Castiel?" I thought. "You don't know me, my name is Annie, and I know all about you. I'm not from this universe, and I need help. I know you probably aren't listening, but incase you are, I can prove I know things. I know things like how right now, you're probably with the Winchesters, you're telling them how you want to be a hunter. They're laughing. I know about leviathans, I know about Dean going to purgatory. I know how both he and Sam have died multiple times. I know you secretly love Dean, no matter how much you refuse to admit it. So please, just get your winged ass down here! I'm begging you!" I opened my eyes. I let out a breath, then turned around. No Castiel. I knew it wouldn't happen.

I was about to walk back towards the bench when I heard a whoosh behind me. I whirled around to see a trench coat-clad angel, brandishing his angel blade. "Who are you, and how do you know those things," he says, his voice even.

My eyes widen. It worked, I had gotten through to him. Then, the realization that one of my favorite fictional characters was standing in front of me hit me. My mind went blank, I forgot how to talk. I just reached out my hand to touch his coat.

"You're here," I manage to say. "You're real!"

"What are you talking about? What are you?" Cas looked at me, his beautiful blue eyes unwavering.

"I-" I wasn't sure what to say. "I need help,

please, listen to me," I begged.

"What are you?" He repeated.

"I'm just a girl!" I said. "Admittedly, I'm supposed to be in another state in another universe, but I'm nothing special! I'm just human!"

Castiel continued to stare at me. "How did you get here?" He asked.

"I don't know! I just woke up here!" I shouted, frustrated.

"Well, what do you expect me to do about this?" Castiel asked, lowering his weapon.

"I don't know!" I yelled again.

"How did you know those things you said earlier?" Castiel asked.

"In my universe," I said. "This world is a TV show, following Sam and Dean. It's currently 9 seasons long, and today is an episode in the eighth season. I was watching it before I fell asleep."

"A TV show?" Castiel asked.

"That I've watched over and over," I laughed.

"So you know what happens in this episode?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I was about to speak, but then Doctor Who popped into my mind. I can't tell him, it might mess something up. "I do," I said. "But I can't tell you, might mess something up." Castiel nodded. A thought popped into my head. "Cas, could I see Sam and Dean?"

Cas looked at me like I was crazy. "Why would I take you to them?" He asked.

"I just- I want to talk to them, something similar happened to them. About two years ago? Balthazar sent them to another universe."

Cas thought for a moment, then put his hand on my shoulder. I blinked, and we were standing beside a long black car. My eyes widened, and I sucked in a breath. I reached out to touch the side of- could it be? The Impala was in front of me, in all her beautiful glory.

"Cas?" I heard a voice from behind me, and I whirled around to see Dean. "Who the hell is this?"

I let out a squeak, and pinched my arm one more time.

"This is Annie, she's from another universe," Castiel explains.

"So why is she here?"

"I know everything about you," I say, blushing.

"What?" Dean asked, his brow furrowing.

"Remember two years ago? When Balthazar sent you to where your lives were a TV show?" I tried.

Dean paused for a moment, ten replied with a short yes.

"That's where I'm from," I spoke slowly. "I have watched every episode of the series, and I know you and Sam like I've lived with you my whole life."

"I don't believe you," Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

"You love that car more than anything in the world, you think that Ben Braedon is actually your child, you would eat nothing but pie if the oppurtunity presented itself, you've been to hell and back, went to purgatory, made a deal with a vampire, and have a massive crush on Ca-"

"Enough!" Dean's face turned red. "Okay, so maybe you know me."

"Know you? I run a blog about you," I said, then clamped my hand over my mouth.

"You what?" Dean asked.

"It's a fandom blog?" I manage to squeak out. Then, Sam happened to stroll over.

"Who's the kid?" He asked, looking me over.

"Long story," I say. "Alternate universe, I know about your life."

Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Huh?"

"I'll tell you more later," I sighed, I didn't want to have to repeat myself for the third time.

Dean turned to Castiel, who stood beside me. "Why did you bring her here?" He asked, gesturing towards me.

"She asked to see you," Castiel responded.

"Why us?" Sam asked. I blushed yet again.

"You three are my favorite fictional characters..." I said, looking down at my still-bare feet.

"Fictional?" Sam asked.

"Your lives are a 9-season TV show where I'm from," I supplied. Then a thought came to mind. "Sam, I don't know if you'll know about this for a few days, but I was just in a town where a man's heart lept out of his chest. Literally. You guys are supposed to take the job either tomorrow or the day after."

Sam looked at me like I was crazy. "What?"

"I've seen this episode before. I know what's going to happen, but I can't really tell you, or I might royally fuck something up." I said.

At the sound of me swearing, both Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "How old are you again?" Sam asked.

"I'm sixteen," I said, rolling my eyes. "I can't believe you two are such nuns.

"You look younger than that," Sam said.

"It's because I'm short, isn't it," I groaned. "I blame genetics."

Sam actually laughed a little bit. "So what do you expect us to do?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," I replied. "It's just, you two always seem to have the answers, I figured you two might know what to do." I felt my face heat up. I sounded like an idiot. An obsessive idiot. I cringe when I remember Becky, the crazed Supernatural fangirl who tried to get Sam to marry her. They probably thiught I was just another Becky, a crazed fangirl obsessed with people who she didn't think existed. "I'm sorry, this all must be really weird for you two," I said, backing away slowly.

"Wait," Dean said. "You came here looking for help, right? Well, that's our specialty. Helping people. And you know what's going to happen in our future?"

"For almost two years," I confirmed.

"Then stay. We can try and find you a way back home, and you can help us out, keep us on the right track." Dean paused, waiting for anyone to object. No one did. Then, he turned back to me. "So, what happens next? Where does this uh, episode take us?"

I pause, then look over at Cas. "Should I tell them? I don't think you three find out about the incident for a day or two."

"I would advise against it," Castiel stated. "A few days could change plenty things." I nodded. If we went so much as a few hours early, everything could be out of whack. People wouldn't be where they were supposed to be, we might meet comepletely different people, we might get comepletely different information. It could seriously affect the case. Not to mention, if we were early, we may prevent deaths, but that means some people who should be dead wouldn't be, and that's never a good thing.

"Well, looks like we're not going anywhere for a few days," I said. It was then that I remembered I was still in my pajamas. "Would it be too much to ask for some cash so I can buy some clothes? I woke up on a park bench in my pajamas and I would really like to put some pants on," I asked.

And so, twenty minutes later, I hopped out of the impala, and walked into a shopping mall,$300 in hand. As I walked from store to store, people have me strange looks. I couldn't blame them though, I wasn't even wearing shoes.

After two hours, I had gotten myself two pairs of pants, a pair of shorts, five shirts, a pair of converse, undergarments, socks, and a bag to carry it all in.

I walked out into the parking lot to see the Impala, parked and waiting, about forty feet from me. I still felt a little rush of joy every time it saw it. It was just another reminder that this was real. I was awake, alive, and walking toward a black 1967 Chevy impala, with two brothers and an assload of weapons resting inside. I almost burst out in giddy laughter, but I caught myself.

I opened the door to the backseat, then slid in, dropping my bag on the floor. "I'm back," I said.

"What took you so long?" Dean grumbled.

"I'm a teenage girl, I was in my happy place. You can't rush a girl in her happy place, it's like telling Picasso to just 'hurry up and paint something already'."

"Shopping isn't an art," Sam interjected

"And painting isn't a pastime?" I countered.

"Touché," Sam responded.

"I'm hungry," I stated after a few moments of silence. "Can we get something to eat?"

Dean grunted. "I'm not your chauffeur!"

"We can get pie," I suggested.

"Fine," He grumbled, then turned on the radio. The sound of a guitar filled the Impala, and at first I didn't recognize the song, until I heard a man start to sing.

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion," the man sang. I sucked in a breath. It couldn't be. "Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion." He continued to sing.

"I hate this song," Sam groaned. He changed the station, and I let out a squeak.

"Did you just- you- but!" I couldn't form a sentence.

"What?" Sam asked. "Do you like that song?"

I regained control of my mouth. "That's Carry on my Wayward Son!" I blurted out.

"So?" Sam turned around to look at me.

"But that's the finale song!" I felt like tearing my hair out.

"Finale for what?" He arched his brow.

"For you guys! The season finales, they always play that song during the recap!" I shouted.

"Season finales? Are you talking about the TV show in your universe?"

"What other TV show would I be talking about?" I say. "That song is like the unofficial theme song of Supernatural! Every fan knows it like the back of their hand!"

"Really?" Sam made a face. "That's weird. I usually only hear that song about once a year. What happened on each season finale?"

"Season one was when you guys fought Azazel the first time and got hit by a truck," I begin. "Season two is when the gates of hell open, the season three is when Dean goes to hell. Season four is when Lucifer rises, then season 5 is when you and Adam get sent to hell. After that, season six is when the leviathans possess Cas, and season seven is when Dean goes to purgatory."

"So basically, mid-May?" Sam asked.

I nodded. "The next season usually starts in either late September or early October."

Sam looked legitimately confused. "That's usually when I hear that song..." He trailed off.

I laughed a little bit. "I guess our universes are more alike than I had thought."

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**So did you like it? Leave me a review and I'll love you forever! Well, I'm off to work on chapter 2... **


	2. Chapter 2

**Alrighty! Here's chapter two! So basically, I've decided that this story is probably not going to be much longer than 5-7 chapters, but who knows, maybe I'll think of some super-exciting ideas. I'll have the interns brainstorm. (And by interns, I mean my 'editors'. One of them is ⅔ of the way through with supernatural, and the other hates this story idea and is only on season 1, so I'm thinking I need new interns.)**

**Also, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/followed already! I know that 3 reviews isn't a lot, but it made me really happy that three people thought the first chapter was good enough to beg me to write more. (1 in all caps)**

**And so, I proudly present, Chapter 2!  
-Fox**

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"So, you can't help us out, not at all?" Dean asked, as he eased his foot off the breaks. The Impala roared back to life.

"Nope, you guys have to figure it out yourself," I replied, stretching out in the backseat.

"Not even a little hint?" Dean asked again.

"No, or something will go wrong." I let out a breath.

"So then what use are you?" Dean said, jokingly.

"Well, my fanfiction skills aren't shit, I can obsess for hours, and I can talk fast enough to be an auctioneer," I supplied.

"Speaking of fanfiction," Sam asked. "How popular is Supernatural?"

"Huge," I said, smiling. "Superwholock literally dominates tumblr."

"Superwholock?"

"It's a multi-fandom name. It's a combination of Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock. Basically, it's mostly teenage girls who rant and come up with head-cannons on tumblr, then write fanfiction about it."

"You said you write fanfiction?"

"Yup. I read my first fanfic when I was ten, wrote my first story about a year later. It was for this one anime my brother showed me. I had an account that I shared with a friend, except somehow, my mom found it. That was embarrassing..." I trailed off.

"You were eleven when you wrote your first fanfic?" Sam asked, skeptical. "Was it any good?"

"Well," I started. "A little cliche, but I've always been pretty good with grammar. Also, I accidentally watched porn when I was eight, so I knew about that... stuff, so when my mom found my stories that mentioned mature topics, she actually almost sent me to a therapist."

"Porn? At age eight?" Dean sounded legitimately shocked.

"Hey, you can't go far on YouTube without hearing someone talk about porn, and I've always been naturally curious."

"So, what's life as a... fangirl like?" Sam asked, curious.

"Well, when you have one thing that makes you really happy," I started, "everything else fades away. Life is better when your watching your favorite show, everything else is all just black and white."

"What do you guys do during hiatuses?"

"Cry, mostly. But lots of times, people start shows during hiatuses. Once, when I watched nine seasons of a show in six weeks, finishing about a month before the show's tenth season came out."

"How did you have all that time?"

"I don't sleep," I said. "Well, actually, I sleep from about four in the morning to noon. Either that, or from three to about five thirty."

"So you get either eight hours, or two? That doesn't seem super healthy." Dean grumbled.

"You two are one to talk," I said. "Don't you guys get like six hours of sleep per week?"

"True," they both agreed.

The conversation lulled, trickling out. I rested my head against the window, watching the scenery pass by. I wish I had my phone. It had all my music on it, and right now, I would kill for a little bit of a distraction. The silent car was beyond awkward, and I could tell both Sam and Dean were uncomfortable.

Then I remembered- my pajama shorts, tiny as they may be, we're amazing in many ways. Not only did they look adorable, as well as provided surperior comfort, they had weirdly deep pockets. I pulled them out of my backpack and dug through them, turning up a paper clip, a five-dollar bill, a pair of earbuds, and most importantly, my phone. I let out this little inhuman squeak when I saw it. It's one of the few things I have left from my old life, (not that I really want to go back) but it has all 500 of my songs on it. That, and the tumblr app might still be working.

I popped in the earbuds, closed my eyes, and let the world fade away to the sound of a piano.

After about twenty minutes, I pulled out one of the buds and turned the volume down. "Are we almost there?" I asked, trying not to sound like a whining toddler. We had been driving for three hours already, and my legs were starting to cramp up.

"About fifty more miles," Dean said, not taking his eyes off the road.

"With Dean driving, that means less than an hour," Sam supplied, answering my next question before I could ask it.

I nodded, then put my earbud back in my ear, turning up the volume, louder than before. I have always been able to lose myself in music. I can listen to the same song for hours on end. When I was younger, I was really depressed. The only thing that had kept me going was music. However, back then, I had wanted to be a pop star. Now, I just liked tuning out the rest of the world, being able to just think.

I thought about my life, back home. I thought about my parents, my brother, my dogs. I wondered- did they miss me? Did they think I ran away, or was kidnapped? Did they worry about my safety, and wish I were back home, with them? Did they care at all? Or did they just act like nothing had happened, like I had never even existed to begin with?

I thought about my friends. My friend group consisted mainly of me, three other girls, and two guys. I've known one of them for practically my whole life, and most of the others since I was in kindergarten. We didn't really hang out until about fifth grade though.

But would my friends miss me? Most of the time, I felt like the leader of our group. I had sort of united three different friend groups who wouldn't have really become friends if I hadn't pushed us together. But sometimes, I felt like my friends would talk about me behind my back, complaining about how rude, lazy, sarcastic, obsessive, and explicit I could be.

I send a lot of jokey insults at my friends, and sometimes it's hard to tell that they know I'm joking. One of my biggest fears was that one day, they'd all just leave me alone, tell me that they hate everything about me. For them to tell me that I'm annoying and bossy, and just a pain to be around.

So maybe they're all glad that I'm gone. No more Annie, stealing strawberries from people's lunches, and ranting about fictional characters. No more Annie, bossing everyone around, making a fool of herself. No more Annie, forcing her friends to read her mediocre fanfiction and having them watch the shows she's obsessed with. No more Annie.

Thoughts like this swirl around in my head, bumping against each other, for the rest of the ride. By the time we reached the motel, I was beyond ready to escape my own thoughts. As soon as the car stopped, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and hopped out of the Impala. I rocked back and forth on my heels impaitently, as I waited for Sam and Dean to collect themselves.

Once they were ready, I followed Sam inside as he booked the room. He handed me a room key, then headed back to Dean, to help him unload the Impala. I followed him out the door, but instead of returning to the car, I found our room, then unlocked the door, throwing my bag on the couch. The Winchesters came in a few moments later, dropping their bags on their beds. "Okay, you two go do your thing, I'll stay here and use Sam's laptop to watch Netflix and update my blog," I said, stretching out on the couch. "Oh, and tell Cas to get his feathery ass down here, he's supposed to be here for this one."

Surprisingly, niether complain. Sam hands me his laptop, then he and Dean take turns in the bathroom, putting on their suits. Within the hour, they're out the door again.

Once they're gone, I log into my Netfilx account, (which works, surprisingly) and I watch about six episodes of some show I've never heard of. None of the shows I actually like are in this universe, which sucks. Not only that, but tumblr doesn't exist in this universe either. Yet another drawback.

After another hour on Netflix, I decided I was hungry.

I pushed the white-hot laptop off my legs, then stood up off the couch, stretching my arms, cracking my back. I reach for the wad of twenties that Dean handed me before they left, then jotted a quick note on the desk.

I slipped the room key and my phone into my pocket, then headed out the door. As I walked away from the building, I felt a a strong breeze. I shivered a little, then pulled my jacket tighter around myself.

I walked along for about three blocks, until I reached what looked to be a bustling diner. I pushed open the door, hearing a bell jingle overhead. The hostess looked up from her little podium and smiled at me, flashing her pearly whites. "Just one?" She asked. I nodded, and she lead me to a seat at the end of the bar. I hoisted myself onto a barstool as she handed me a menu. "I'll send someone over to take your order in just a moment!" She said, smiling again. I smiled back, and then she was gone.

After I had placed my order, I leaned back on the stool, spinning a little. The decor here was really interesting, and it really felt like I had been sent back to the fifties. Amid the hustle and bustle, I thought I could hear a familliar voice, rising above the tangles of conversation around me. And sure enough, I managed to spot Team Free Will, sitting at a booth on the other side of the restaurant. They were discissing something, and I assumed they were working. I was about to get off my stool and walk over, just to say hello. But I figured if I showed up, it would throw them off. Even so, I was itching to yell, 'it's the damn doctor and your psychic friend!'

And so, I watched them. I know that sounds really stalkery, but it wasn't like that. It was like watching an episode of Supernatural, seeing them work, watching the realization flood into their eyes as they put two and two together. It was amazing. I still couldn't fully believe that I was here. When I was younger, I had imagined what it would be like to be whisked away to another world, where everything I had ever dreamed of was a reality.

The fantasy changed over the years. First, I was a princess. Then, a pop star. After that, a famous actress, then an author, then simply just rich. At one point, I wanted a TARDIS to show up at my door, take me away from school, stress, my family, and everything. But starting a few years ago, right after I started watching Supernatural, all I had wanted was to find myself in the Impala, hunting along side the Winchesters. At the time, I knew it was ridiculous. For one, that would never happen, fictional characters are just that. Fictional. That, and I was only thirteen, and Sam and Dean would never travel around with a thirteen-year-old girl.

After I had finished my burger, I left some cash on the table, then walked out of the restaurant. I was about to head back to the motel, but then I spotted the park in which I had arrived in. The sun was out, and it was a glorious day.

I headed for the park, slipping my jacket off my shoulders as I went. The day might not have been all that warm, but the sun was so strong, it was like walking past a heat lamp. I walked for a while, then I sat down on a park bench. I could hear birds chirping, dogs barking. Then, I felt a drip on my head. I looked up, there was nothing but blue skies overhead. Then, another drop of water fell, then another. Soon enough, it was a full-blown sunshower. I got up from the bench to see people rushing for cover, but I just stood there, tansfixed.

I felt the water running down the sides of my face, and I grinned. I loved sunshowers. Everything always looked so cool, shining and shimmering, refracting the sunlight.

I stood there, in the rain, for a good ten minutes. I would have been there longer, but out of nowhere, I heard a voice behind me.

"What are you doing out in the rain?"

I whirled around to see Cas standing behind me. "Cas?" I asked. "Why are you here?"

"Why are you standing in the rain?" He asked, ignoring my question.

"It's a sun shower," I said, as if that explained it.

"Well, yes, I suppose it is, but why are you out here? You're getting drenched."

"I suppose now is when you tell me I'll catch a cold?" I suggested.

"No," Cas said, confused. "Why would I do that?"

"It's a- nevermind." Explaining worried mothers to Cas wouldn't go over well. "I just like the rain," I said.

"But now, you're all wet," Cas stated.

"Well, that tends to happen when you stand in the rain."

"I don't understand humans," Cas muttered, then poofed away.

After the rain stopped, I headed back to the motel, where I proceeded to watch Netflix until Sam and Dean returned, several hours after I had seen them in the diner. When they opened the door, I woke from a half-trance that tends to happen to a person after they've been sitting in the same spot for six hours, watching a screen.

"Hi guys," I chirped, smiling. "How's the case going?"

"We think we might have something, we'll probably wrap it up tomorrow," Sam responded. "Except, you already knew that."

"Well," I said. "I know most of the story, but they only show so much in each episode, you know? I mean, they never show the car trips, or the bathroom breaks, or the sleeping, just the exciting bits. So, in all honesty, I don't know if you wrap up the case tomorrow, or in a week. I just know the answer, but the show never showed your work."

"Did you just make a metaphore to math class?" Sam asked.

"What?" I said, defensively. "Teachers are always yelling at us to show our work, it got ingrained in my mind."

Dean looked over to where I had been sitting when they had walked in. "Have you been sitting there all day?" He asked, gesturing towards the couch.

"I got lunch, and I stood in the rain, but other than that, yeah," I answered.

"But we've been gone for more than 12 hours," Dean said.

"Yeah? And?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"You sat there, and watched Netflix for 12 hours?"

"Bitch please, that's nothing new. 12 hours is nothing! My record is 16."

"How are you not 300 pounds if all you do is sit and watch TV all day?"

"Well, my summer sleep schedule messes up my metabolism. I can eat practically nothing and feel full somedays, and then as soon as school starts and I have to be awake early, I'm a bottomless pit."

"That's... nice?" And that ended our conversation. Sam headed to the bathroom, Dean lay down on his bed, listening to music, and I headed for the couch. I contemplated watching another episode, but I figured Sam would probably want to use his laptop. So I closed my eyes, and drifted off.

After a few days, the case was solved, and we were heading out of town. It was late, and I was laying down in the backseat, my eyes closed. I wasn't asleep, but I had been still for so long, it looked like I was. I was just drifting off when I heard Dean whisper, "Is she asleep yet?" The fog in my mind cleared instantly, but I stayed still.

I could hear Sam shift in his seat as he turned to check on me. He turned back, then responded, "Yeah, looks like it."

"What are we gonna do with her?" Dean asked quietly. "We don't have time to babysit." I felt a pang in my chest. Here it was, the dreaded conversation I knew was coming. They didn't want me with them. Of course they didn't, I told myself. Why would they?

"Well, we can't just leave her somewhere, we need to get her home," Sam countered.

"Sam, everyone around us dies, it's a fact," Dean remarked somberly.

"We could send her to Garth?" Sam suggested. I shuddered. That wouldn't be good, plus, he gets turned into a werewolf in a few months, I don't want to be part of that.

"Garth would get her killed," Dean stated flatly.

"We could teach her to hunt?" Sam tried. "She already knows a bunch of the basics, she's been watching us hunt for eight years." See look, Sam had been listening. I wasn't an idiot, I knew enough to stay inside the ring of salt.

"But look at her," Dean said, gesturing at me. "She's small, and probably weak." I couldn't take it anymore, so I sat up. I could take being thought of like an annoying child. I get it, they don't need me weighing them down. But just because I'm a girl does not automatically mean I'm weak.

"Excuse me?" I said. Both Sam and Dean jumped in their seats."I may not be a hunter, but don't ever mistake me for weak. When I was in elementary school, I had a reputation for kicking the crap out of people that pissed me off. Three kids on my bus were terrified of me! Once, I beat a kid with my shoe. I've had a whole lot of crap handed to me, and I'm still here, yelling at the world, and anyone who will listen. I am not weak."

"Okay, then what do you propose we do?" Dean asked.

"Let me help," I said. "Teach me some stuff, like how to shoot a gun, and what the most effective places to kick things are. Let me prove my worth."

"But you'll get hurt, you know that, right?" Sam said.

"I've watched enough to know that you two and people around you don't last very long. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I, honestly, don't even want to go home." I meant it.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked. I nodded. "Alright, we'll begin training tomorrow."

* * *

**Please review if you liked it? Even if you didn't?**

-Fox


	3. Chapter 3

**So today, I decided that this is story is gonna be a lot longer than I had originally planned. So, expect like 10+ chapters? I don't know. This chapter is a little dark, and the next one is too, but after that, I promise it'll brighten up. Special thank you to Unpaid Intern #1 for letting me use her laptop to post.**

**Also, later in this chapter, there is mention of self-harm. So, trigger warning, I guess? **

**-Fox**

* * *

I felt my heartbeat quicken as I walked through the dark corridors of the abandoned building. My grip tightened around the wickedly sharp machete in my hand. A vampire had been terrorizing this town, and Sam thought it might be a good idea for me to get some real experience.

I had been training for about three months, but this was the first hunt where I was allowed to go out and actually... kill things. To be honest, I was pretty nervous. I has never killed anything in my life, other than a few spiders.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Once, I was walking in a tunnel with my friend Bella, and it was dark. I saw something move in the shadows, and I screamed. She tuned around and stepped back, stepping on it. We decapitated a newt.

As I swept my flashlight along the hallway, I felt a chill creep up my spine. I felt something move behind me, and I whipped around to see a vampire. She rushed at me, but I stepped to the side. She turned around, and came at me again, but this time she lept for me, knocking me down to the floor. I felt my shoulder crack against the concrete, and I winced in pain. She was leaning down, opening her jaws, preparing to feast, but I grabbed the blade and pressed to her neck. I tried to force her off me, but she wouldn't budge. So, I took the blade and swung, slicing her head off.

Her head rolled off her shoulders, onto me. I shrieked a little bit, then pushed it off, then her body. I stood up, covered in blood. I sighed. I really liked this shirt. Damn.

I was about to head out the door when something leapt from the shadows and attatched itself to my back, digging it's fingernails into my bare flesh. I screamed, then grabbed for the machete, but the creature grabbed it before I could.

"You killed her!" It snarled into my ear. Shit. Another vamp. I had to get it off me, but how? This hadn't been covered in my training classes. I thought quickly, to all the times my friends and I would try an buck each other off.

I let my knees grow weak, and I slammed down, backwards. I fell to the floor, the vamp below me. He was confused and disoriented, and I used that time to reclaim my machete. With one slash, his head was separated from his shoulders, and the rest of his body. I lowered my arm, panting. I looked to the doorway to see Sam and Dean, watching.

"Thanks for the help," I dead-panned. I handed the blade to Sam, then headed for the exit. I hated dark buildings.

"We were going to," Dean started. "But you had it handled. Nice idea there, falling to the floor."

"Really?" I asked. Dean didn't usually compliment my work.

"Well, you should have seen the other vamp coming in the first place," Dean criticized. There it was. "And you took too long with the first one. You should have gone straight for the decapitation, instead of trying to push her off you. She got too close to ripping your throat out."

We had reached the entrance, and I pushed the old door open. I squinted when sunlight hit my eyes. "How far are we from the bunker?" I asked, walking toward the Impala. I opened the door, and slid into the backseat, relaxing into the leather.

"A few hours," Dean said, getting into the driver's seat. I looked at my phone. It read 3:36. That means I can make dinner by 7 if I work on my shooting accuracy for a bit.

Lately, I've been doing a lot of cooking. It sounds really stereotypical, but it's one of the few things I'm good at. I've been feeling guilty about being dead weight, so lots of times I wont even go with Sam and Dean on their hunts. I'll stay in the bunker and make brownies or lasagna or burgers or whatever. I usually just make it for myself, but I make enough so that there's leftovers, in case Sam and Dean come back early. I don't remember quite what episode Kevin comes to live in the bunker too, so I've basically been making enough food for four people.

I've been meaning to bake some pies, as a thank you to Dean for not shooting me yet, but Sam and I haven't been able to find a recipe yet. It's a shame, really. The Men of Letters may have been geniuses, with recipes from many places and for many things, but would it kill them to leave something behind that said how to make a pie crust?

After a few music-filled hours on the road, we pulled up to the bunker. I got out, stretched my legs, and grabbed my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder. I headed for the door, and waited for Sam to unlock it. As soon as the door was open, I rushed through, heading for my room. I was still covered in vampire blood, and it was starting to smell. As soon as I got through my door, I stripped down to my underwear. I pulled on a fresh t-shirt, and a pair of shorts I had worn about a week ago.

After that, I headed to the shooting range. I had been shooting every day I had been here for the past few months. I've never been a very good shot, but I've gotten substantially better since I had started, so I figured I'd keep practicing.

After an hour of shooting, I had gone through 37 rounds. Of those 37, 4 didn't hit at all, 11 were fatalities, 14 immobilized, and 8 would have damaged arteries. As I put the gun away and collected the shells, I smiled. Three months ago, I could barely hit a target.

I headed to the kitchen after that, skipping a little. I had found a recipe for chicken Alfredo the week before, and I had been dying to try it out. On my way there, I popped my head into Sam's room.

"Hey Sam," I asked. "Are you and Dean going to want any Alfredo? It'll be ready in like an hour."

Sam didn't look up from the book he was reading. "Sure, I'll let Dean know," He said, as if in a trance.

"You know what? I'll tell him, you seem busy." Sam nodded, absentmindedly. I slipped out of his room, then continued my trek to the kitchen, stopping once to tell Dean to be ready for dinner by 7.

Once I reached the kitchen, I pulled the recipe out from the notebook where I had been keeping the recipes I wanted to try, then I got out the ingredients.

About twenty minutes later, I slid a tray full of Alfredo, noodles, and grilled chicken into one of the four ovens. I set a timer, then headed to fridge and pulled out a few apples. I rinsed them off, then sliced them up, placing the slices into a large bowl, which I then set on the wooden table in the main room. I brought out plates, napkins and silverware too, which I placed around the table. I knew that Sam and Dean didn't really care about what the table looked like, or if they had the right forks or whatever, but I had realized that they had never really had the kind of home where the table was set and food was freshly made.

I went back to the kitchen and preheated one of the other ovens, then pulled a can of croissant dough from the fridge. I loved this stuff, I could never have enough. I know that they were full of calories and fat, but they were so, completely worth it.

I pulled the Alfredo out of the oven, placing it on the counter. I still had one more thing I had to prepare; butter sauce. Croissants always tasted better when glazed in butter, and I was in the mood for gorging myself.

I walked to the fridge, and pulled out a stick of butter, then grabbed a knife and a cutting board. I sliced up the stick, creating little buttery squares. I then scraped the butter into a bowl, which I popped into the microwave for about thirty seconds. The microwave was mounted to the wall, higher than I could reach easily, so I had to stand on my toes to reach the bowl. Even then, it was still a stretch. I grabbed it, and the glass was hotter than I had thought it would be. I felt the bowl slip through my fingers, spilling over me, covering me in hot, sticky butter. The bowl crashed down onto the floor, cracking into a million pieces.

I felt the butter burning my skin, and I had to get back to my room, had to get it off. I sprinted from the kitchen to my room, bumping into Sam along the way.

"Annie?" He called after me.

"No time! Dinner's on the table! And still in the kitchen I guess. I'll be there in a minute!" I yelled, not stopping. About three minutes later, I reached my room. I swung open the door, and stripped off my clothes for the second time that night. I ran to my bathroom, and turned on the shower. I jumped into the water, feeling the cold soothe my partially burnt skin. After about five minutes, I stepped out of the shower, and dried off.

I headed back to my room, and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a tank top, and lay them out on my bed. I bent down and grabbed my underwear from the bottom drawer, and pulled it on. As I did, I ran my hand along the thin pink scars that ridged my upper thigh. I winced, not from pain, but from memories. The oldest scar had been there since I was fourteen.

I had put it there the night of my eighth grade dance. Back then, I was kind of overweight. I'm not saying I'm pretty now, but I'm a hell of a lot more attractive now than I was then. So, it was no surprise that no one had asked me. So there I sat, alone in my room, my dress hanging in the closet. I had looked in the mirror, and seen someone I didn't like. I didn't want to die, I wan't suicidal. But I hated myself. I hated what I looked like, what I sounded like, how I acted. So, I did what I did best- I hurt someone that annoyed me. I took my pocket knife and ran it along my upper thigh, wishing I could slice off the layers of fat that were there.

The others had been accumulated over time. I've never been suicidal. I may have wanted to die, but I'm far too much of a coward to inflict that much pain on myself. But I hated who I was. I always have. So I cut. I slice and I slash, and I put a band-aid over it and pretend it's not there. I put on a smile, and act like everything is okay, but it's not.

I blinked, and I'm back in the present; I shrugged on my tank top, and just as I was about to pull up my pants, Cas poofed in.

"Hello Annie! Do you know where I can find De-" He looked at me, and at first, his face turned red. I wasn't wearing pants, after all. But then his eyes found the scars. "What are those?" He asked.

"Nothing," I mutter, pulling up my pants.

"Why do you have scars on your legs?" He asked again.

"It doesn't matter, okay?" I turned away from him, heading back to my bathroom. "Sam and Dean are in the main room, eating dinner. Please, leave me alone."

"Okay," he said, then he was gone.

I sat down on my bed and put my head in my hands. This wasn't good. I didn't know if Cas knew what the scars meant, but on the off chance he did, I was screwed. He'd look at me like a kicked puppy, like a broken doll. Fragile, like if someone made one wrong move, all the pieces would shatter. I sat like that, for a good twenty minutes. Until my stomach growled. And growled. I groaned. Why did I have to be hungry _now?_ I couldn't go out there! I had no way of knowing if Cas was still here, and I had no intention of seeing him until I could come up with a reasonable lie for my scars story.

But I hadn't eaten since breakfast, which was almost 12 hours ago. So I opened the door, and headed for the kitchen. I padded down the hallway, feeling the smooth wood beneath my feet. I was about to turn to head towards the kitchen, when I heard voices coming from the main room.

"Wait, slow down." It was Dean's voice. "Cas, you're telling me she has _what?_" My heart stopped. Cas had done the one thing I hadn't wanted him to.

"Scars, on her upper thigh. They seemed to be self-inflicted, and a sore subject. Some of them look old, but others look relatively new," Cas responded. "I'm worried about her, Dean."

I felt my pulse quicken, and my face flush. Who were they to talk about me behind my back? Why do they care so damn much? I didn't show them my scars for a reason. They're not important, they don't define me. I didn't want to, but I felt my legs carrying me towards the voices.

I entered the main room with my arms crossed and my face red. When Dean saw me, he didn't look at me the way he used to, like I was an annoying little kid that kept screwing up, but he liked me anyway. Now his eyes showed sadness, a sort of apologetic softness, like he was telling me, "Hey, I'm sorry your life sucks so bad that you cut up your legs in your spare time."

"Annie," He said. "Dinner was good, it's a shame you missed it." He spoke slowly, gauging my reaction.

"Cut the crap," I demanded. "I know Cas told you, and I want you to know what it's none of your business what I do to myself."

"So I shouldn't care that you cut yourself? That you hurt yourself, on purpose, because you aren't happy?" He looked frustrated, like I was a little kid, arguing that 2 plus 2 didn't actually equal four.

"Exactly!" I yelled. "And of all people, why should you care? I'm just a kid who you barely know! The only reason you haven't thrown me out on the streets is because I cook for you and tell you about how popular your life story is!"

Dean looked hurt. "That's not the only reason we keep you around," he mumbled. "And don't change the topic! You shouldn't cut yourself."

"And why not?" I shouted.

"Because it isn't worth it," he said. "It gets better!" I didn't need to hear this. People always reacted this way. It was so cliche, saying that it would get better, that I shouldn't throw my life away.

"Could you be any more generic?" I said.

"It's true!" He said. "It always gets better, you just gotta tough it out, wait for the storm to blow over."

"Yeah, and as soon as it's gone, a bigger, badder storm takes it's place," I responded. "I don't need to hear this crap from you." I had to get out of there. I could feel my nose start to tingle in the way it always did when I was about to cry. I couldn't let them see me cry, they'd see it as a weakness. They'd see me as more broken, more damaged. I headed to the bunker door.

"Where are you going?" Cas spoke up.

"Away," I said, swinging open the door. I slammed it shut behind me.

I stepped out into the cold night air, and I wished I had been wearing a sweatshirt. I shivered. I just needed to take a walk, to clear my head. I headed towards the woods that surrounded the bunker.

I walked and I walked, trying to forget about Sam and Dean. Forget about my scars, my memories, everything. All I could focus on was the woods.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, (but was probably more like half an hour) I heard a noise behind me. I figured it was just a squirrel, but I heard a growl, soon followed by the sounds of something snapping twigs. I turned to see a pair of eyes behind me.

Then I remembered something from earlier that day; On the way back from the vampire case, Sam had been trolling for more cases, and he had seen something that was a few miles from the bunker. They were going to check it out tomorrow. He had said that something was attacking the locals, ripping out their hearts.

A werewolf.

I froze in place. If there was really a werewolf in these woods, I was screwed. I didn't have anything with me, I was dressed in pajamas. I could never outrun it, and I didn't know where I was. I watched the pair of eyes emerge from the shadows to become a man. Well, what remained of a man after a werewolf had taken over it. He approached slowly, as if he were preparing to pounce.

He circled me, and I kept my eyes glued to his. And then, he jumped, claws bared. I couldn't help myself, I screamed. He knocked me to the ground, and he tore at me, ripping away at my skin. He dragged his claws along my right thigh, and I screamed again. He hit me in the head, to disable me. I could see my vision fading, going black around the edges. Everything was blurry. I could make out the shape of the creature on top of me, and I saw him reach back an arm, so he could have more momentum when he plunged it into my chest to rip out my heart.

His arm was mid-swing when a loud bang sounded. The werewolf collapsed next to me, and I turned my head to see Sam and Dean, standing a few feet away from me, Sam with a smoking shotgun.

Then, my vision turned black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! SO first off, I'm sorry that I tok forever to update, I kind of have writer's block. Secondly, this chapter is a whole lot shorter than usual, and once again, I'm sorry. **

**Third, tot he user that reviewed about the trigger warning, I have put one in place at the beginning of the last chapter. I'm sorry that it brought up bad memories, I'm sorry that I hadn't thought of putting up a warning, and thank you so much for letting me know. I will put up a warning from now on.**

**Fourth, School is starting soon, and that means updates will get longer. My bus ride is an hour, so I can probably work on chapters then, but if people are nosy, I really don't want to be known as the girl who writes emo fanfiction.**

**Lastly, I would like to thank all of you guys for being so awesome. I'm super happy about how well this story is doing.**

**As always, reviews make my day! Criticism, compliments, and crap are all welcome.**

**-Fox**

* * *

I woke to the sound of worried voices.

"Why isn't she waking up?" Sam was yelling. "She should be awake by now."

"Cas, can't you fix her?" It was Dean, this time.

"I've done all that I can," Cas spoke evenly. "But Sam's right, she should be awake by now."

I sat up. "Guys? I'm fine, I'm awake." No reaction.

"This is all my fault," I heard Dean mutter.

"Guys!" I yelled. "I'm awake!" I swung my legs over the side of the bed I had been resting on, and I stood up. I waved my hands in front of Dean's face, no reaction. I tried punching him, but my hand passed right through. No, I thought. No, this can't be, I'm not dead! I couldn't be dead, Cas said he healed me!

As if Dean had read my mind, he softly asked, "Is she dead?"

"No, not yet. She's perfectly fine, from what I can tell," Cas replied, stepping towards the bed. Not until then did I realize that I was still laying there. Well, my body was. Cas touched his fingers to my forehead, and he frowned. "I don't understand... She should be awake. She is perfectly healthy, and her brain is active, but something is... preventing her from waking."

I frowned. What could possibly be keeping me unconscious? Just then, my room in the bunker melted away, and I was standing in the middle of my high school's cafeteria. I looked at the clock. 11:47, right in the middle of my lunch period. My eyes wandered to where my friends and I would usually sit. Our little pack consisted of six people: Janet, my neighbor, Bella, the adventerous one, Clara, the other resident fangirl, Al, my other neighbor, and John, my crush.

I didn't know what I expected to see. I was easily the loudest out of all of us, and I was sort of the unoffical group leader, mostly because I had, in a way, brought us all together. Janet and I had been friends a long time ago, way back in first grade. But we didn't have any classes together until later, when she, Bella, and I became a little trio. In middle school, I met Clara. She and I were really similar, and we hit it off almost instantly. John and Al I had known since third grade, but we didn't really start to hang out until middle school, when I had an acting class with the two of them.

Three completely seperate groups of people, who probably would have never hung out if I hadn't built bridges between all of us, with me at the center.

When I reached our table, I found it abandoned. I frowned. Why wasn't anyone here? It was our lunch period, we all ate together, and it was highly unlikely that they were all absent. I scanned the cafeteria, and I spotted Clara first. She was brushing her long, blonde hair behind her shoulder as she took a bite of what looked to be a turkey sandwich. Janet was sitting next to her, and Bella next to Janet. They were talking about something, but I couldn't tell what.

I walked over to them, and heard Bella talking about how she was thinking of adopting another cat. She had convinced her dad to let them get a foster cat when we were 12, and she was thinking maybe Monte could use a friend.

Janet was nodding, suggesting some good adoption places she knew of. Clara was listening, but looked a little out of it. She was looking down at something in her lunch bag, so I walked over behind her, and I knew why, instantly. It was a tupperware full of kiwi slices.

Way back when I had met Clara, in seventh grade, we had been sitting together, eating lunch. I had bought my lunch, and I had taken a tiny bite of a kiwi, but it wasn't ripe yet, so it was terribly sour. I made a face, and she had laughed. I had then proceeded with rubbing the entire fruit along her arm. It had kind of been a tradition, rubbing sour kiwis on Clara.

Then, I spotted John. He was sitting across the cafeteria, talking with Al. Around him was the group of people he and Al used to sit with before I was close with them.

I ran over, only to pass through three different people. I reached their table, and tried to get their attention. I smacked John, then tried to pull Al's hair, nothing happened. I wanted to throw something, but I couldn;t. Needless to say, this was very frustrating. I was about to walk away when I heard one of the other guys at the table say, "So last month, my brother started watching this one show, Supernatural I think, and he's already 6 seasons in."

I turned around just in time to see John freeze. I had gotten him into Supernatural, and I realized, that by now, Season 10 was out. And I had probably missed the 200th episode musical. Damn. I was really looking forward to that.

John had this faraway look in his eyes, like he was remembering all the terrible fanfiction I made him read. Al looked over at him, and sighed.

"You're thinking about her again, aren't you," He said, softly. John nodded slightly, then turned away.

I didn't want to see this, I didn't want to watch my friends seperated, barely hanging on whenever something reminded them of me.

Then, the cafeteria melted away into my bedroom. It was exactly how I left it, clothes strewn across the floor, laptop sitting on my bed. I sat down and looked around my room. It was werid, I had't been here in three months. The longest I had ever gone before was three weeks. My eyes scanned the walls, resting on a photograph of me, when I was in sixth grade.

My hair had been straightened, and I was wearing ruby-red lipstick, as well as eyeliner and plenty of blush. My hair had been pulled pack partially, held back by a bow. I was smiling, my arms around two of my best friends. I was holding a bouquet of flowers.

The photo was taken after the second showing of my school's musical of which I had been the lead in. I remember that day well. I remember the heat of the spotlight, the butterflies in my stomach, the sound of the music, the way my voice sounded, the dancing, the singing, the movement. It was surreal.

I also remember the wait for the cast list to be posted. It had been an agonizing four day wait. My brother had told me there was no way I would get the lead, and that was honestly half the reason I wanted it.

Singing has always been one of my favorite pastimes. I never thought I was any good, until sixth grade. And most of that was because I would be constantly shushed or yelled at. My brother would yell, saying I was an awful singer, and my dad would yell, complaining he had a headache. And they wonder why I don't like singing for them.

I remember I was in English when I got the news. I had been working on an essay, and I decided to check my email. The girl next to me had looked over my shoulder, and saw the email in my inbox before I did.

"Is that the cast list?" She whispered. I nodded, clicking it. As the email loaded, three more people gathered behind me. By the time I had read my name, there were seven people standing behind me, in a cluster.

"What's going on over there?" My english teacher had asked from her desk. We weren't supposed to check out email during school hours, so I panicked.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "They all just sort of crowded around me." She looked skeptical but turned back to the papers she had been grading.

"Fine, fine, everyone, go sit down," She had said, waving her arm. The group of kids behind me disbanded, and scurried back to their seats. And for the rest of the day, I had been floating on a cloud.

I got up, and walked to my bedroom door. It was open, and I walked through the doorway. I walked down the stairs, and found myself in my kitchen. Sitting in their bed were my two dogs, Meyer and Perogi. Perogi was chewing on Meyer's ears, as always. Meyer was just sitting there, letting Perogi chew away. I smiled when I saw them. They were so ridiculous looking, it was hard not to.

I looked around my house, and realized it was empty. It was the middle of the day, after all. My parents were at work, and my brother was at school. I looked around my house, not entirely sure what I was looking for. Everything was as it had always been.

Just then, a man appeared in front of me. I screamed a little, and he turned towards me. "Are you Annie?" He asked, his voice even. He was taller than I was, but not by much. He looked to be about 5'6, maybe 5'7. I nodded, stepping away from him.

"How do you know me?" I asked, slowly. "Why are you here? Why am I here?"

"I'm here to talk to you. You're here because this universe, the one you belong in, is pulling you back to it." He spoke softly, and his voice was so smooth and calming, it was like being drenched in honey.

"What?" I said. "Why?"

"I'm not sure how you got into the other universe, but this is where you are supposed to be." He gestured to the kitchen.

"I don't want to go back! I hate it here! There's nothing for me here, I'm can't..." I trailed off. I didn't want to come back. I was happy with Sam and Dean, I was helpful. Here, I was a nobody.

"But the other universe isn't your home, you don't belong there!" Who was he to tell me what home was? Just because this is where my relatives live, that doesn't mean they're my family, and that certainly doesn't mean that this is my home.

"Well, I sure as hell don't belong here!" I shouted.

"Ultimately, it's your choice, I guess." His smooth voice was calming, but I was still angry. "But you need to choose quickly, the longer you waste time, floating around, the longer Team Free Will lingers around your bedside. They have other things they need to be doing." He paused, then looked around, before lowering his voice. "Whatever you choose, be careful."

"What? Why do I have to be careful?" I asked. "Who are you?"

"A friend," He said, smiling. Then, he disappeared. Typical.

I was alone again, and I suddenly felt empty. What had he meant, be careful? Was this really all my choice? I sat down, putting my head in my hands.

I had nothing here, I told myself. Freinds who probably hated me, a hopeless crush, parents who didn't love me, there was nothing for me here. I could be something, be someone who helped others. Sam and Dean may not see it, but being a hunter is truly amazing. All the people who wouldn't be alive if not for hunters. To be able to help save lives is really something.

I wanted to tell my friends that I was sorry, sorry for leaving them. I wanted to tell them that I would miss them, and that I didn't want them to be sad. I wanted to tell all of them good bye. But I couldn't. I had no control over my ghostly body.

But I had chosen. I watched the room melt around me, and I felt myself being pulled backwards. I was surrounded in liquid darkness, and I felt like I was falling. Then, I snapped open my eyes, and sat up, in the bunker.

The room was empty, and as I sat up, I saw spots. I stood up, blinking. I looked down to see that I was completely healed, except for three scratches running along the side of my leg. It was most likely caused by the damn werewolf's claws.

I headed for the door, and just before I opened it, I heard the mystery man's voice in my head. Be careful.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so I would like to formally apologize for the hiatus. I finally got my laptop fixed, which is good. School starts early, which isn't. And before the chapter begins, would anyone be interested in following my tumblr? Send me a message and I'll probably follow back!**

**Just, heads up for this chapter, the beginning talks about Annie's self harm. Nothing too graphic, but this is just a heads up.**

**Once again, sorry about the wait, I love you all.**

**-Fox**

* * *

I pushed open the door, feeling my heartbeat in my ears. My face was flushed red, and I didn't even know why. Why was this so nerve-racking? Why was my stomach fluttering so badly? I realized then that I wanted to run and hide because I was embarrassed. I was humiliated that I had almost died, and that I had actually needed to be rescued.

I walked along the hallway that lead to the main room, which was undoubtedly where Sam and Dean would be. (And if Dean was there, then Cas would be too) As I stood in the doorway to the main room, I saw Sam sitting down, his head in his hands. Dean was pacing, back and forth. Cas was sitting opposite of Sam, and was watching Dean, as if he expected Dean to come up with the answer to an unasked question.

I stepped into the room, and cleared my throat. All three heads turned towards me. I waved a little bit, then Sam and Dean both rushed towards me, wrapping me in the tightest hug I had ever felt. I struggled to breathe. "Hi guys," I managed to squeak out. "Can't... Breathe." They let go, and I took a deep breath.

"You're okay!" Sam said, smiling widely.

"Don't you ever do that again," Dean grumbled. I let my face fall, accepting the oncoming lecture. "That was incredibly stupid, and you almost died. You _would_ be dead if it weren't for Sam and I!'

"I know," I tried. "I'm sorry. I- It won't happen again."

"And don't you dare start up again on your thighs," Dean added. I turned away.

"I don't want to have this conversation," I said. I knew that this was unavoidable, Dean was going to bring it up eventually, but I couldn't do it right now. Whenever I fight with someone I care about, especially if they're yelling at me for something I feel guilty about, I will start to cry, It doesn't matter if it's favorite teacher calling me out for slacking, my best friend telling me I've been shit lately, or my dad yelling at me to stop being such a screw-up, I will start crying, and it sucks. It's awful, because it makes me seem like whoever is yelling at me has authority over me, and I hate that feeling. I especially hate it when I'm really mad at someone, but I can't help but cry.

"You may not want to hear this," Dean started, grabbing my shoulder and turning me back towards him. "But it needs to be said. Sure, I don't know what it's like in your world, what it's like having to be you, getting up in the morning. But I do know this: no amount of guilt, or self-hatred, or whatever is bad enough for you to hurt yourself. Do you hear me?" Dean looked me dead in the eyes, and I felt the familiar tingle in my nose that signaled the waterworks.

"It's not that easy," I managed to say, my vision blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. "You can't just flip a switch and be happy! You can't just say, 'Wow I look pretty today,' and automatically love yourself. Life doesn't work that way." I felt a tear slide down my cheek.

"I know," Dean said. "But, you can try, can't you?"

I couldn't just stand there, tears rolling down my cheeks. I felt my face flushing, and I headed for the hallway, making an effort to escape. Dean grabbed my arm, stopping me. I tried to tug my arm free from his fist, but his grip was iron. "Let me go," I demanded.

"Not until you promise," He countered.

"You're acting like a child!" I spat, trying to pry his fingers apart.

"Just promise me you'll try," Dean requested.

I sighed. "Fine," I muttered. "I'll try." Dean's grip loosened, and I managed to wiggle my arm free.

"One more thing," I heard Sam call from behind me. I turned around to see him holding a silver chain with a with a small, rounded pendant. He handed it to me, and I realized it was a bullet. "It's from a Winchester Rifle," Sam explained. "So that you'll always have a Winchester to protect you."

I turned the bullet over in my hand, then I slipped the chain around my neck. "Thanks," I said. "I'm going to be in my room," I stated, then I fled to the safety of the hallway.

A few hours later, I emerged from my room to retrieve a snack from the kitchen. I hadn't eaten since before the attack, and I was starving. I felt my stomach rumbling as I walked along the quiet hallways. I tried to walk quietly, since I really didn't want to repeat this morning's lecture. I felt the chain of the necklace against my neck, and I subconsciously reached for the bullet, running my fingers along the smooth surface.

When I reached the kitchen uninterrupted, I opened up the refrigerator, and saw a white box with a little note on top. My name was scrawled across in neat print, most likely Sam's. I grabbed the note and unfolded it, reading the blue script.

_Annie,_

_We've gone hunting, we should be back in a few days. If you need anything, call Cas. There's a slice of pie in the fridge, Dean thought you might want it. We might call at some point, so if the phone rings, that's us._

_See you in a few days,_

_Sam_

I put the paper down on the counter and grabbed the little white box. Sure enough, there was a slice of apple pie inside, with a dab of whipped cream. I rolled my eyes. Dean must have felt really bad about earlier to have sacrificed this culinary beauty.

I took a bite, and almost spit it out it was so good. I wasn't generally a pie person, my personal philosophy being, if it's got something that good for you in it, then it can't be all that good. But it was by far the best piece of pie I had ever had. I even moaned a little bit.

After I had devoured the slice, I looked around the kitchen. I realized that for the first time in a while, I really didn't want to be alone. I wanted to hear someone else's voice, to feel their presence next to me. I looked back at the note, getting an idea. I closed my eyes and whispered, "Cas? Can you hear me? I"m bored and Dean said you weren't busy…" I stood there for a moment, then felt a rush of air as Castiel appeared in front of me.

"Annie, why would you call me down here for no real reason other than boredom?" Cas lectured, looking stern.

"But it's so _lonely_!"

"So, I'm just here to keep you company?"

"Yup!" I nodded, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He scowled, but said nothing. We stood there for a moment not saying anything.

"What do you want to do?" Cas suggested after a pause.

"I dunno," I said, cringing. I had sudden flashbacks of third grade play-dates. Then, I had an idea. "Do you want to explore the bunker?"

"What?" Cas asked.

"You know," I said. "Look around, wander down hallways, open doors, that sort of thing."

"Sure, I guess?" Cas shrugged. "Where do you want to start?"

I shrugged, heading out the kitchen door. I skipped along the main corridor, until I came across a room I had never been in. "Here looks like a good place to start." I pushed the door open, and I stepped into the room. I flicked up a light switch on the side of the wall, stepping aside to allow Cas into the room as well. I took a moment to sweep my eyes along the room, taking in my surroundings. It seemed to be some form of a medical treatment center, with shelves filled with gauze and ointments, as well as various bottles of colored pills.

I walked over to a shelf and pulled down a bottle, reading the description. "Apply to wounds inflicted by werewolves. Wait two to four hours for medicine to take effect, no long-term side effects should apply." I looked at a more bottles, and it was all the same thing: hunter medicine.

"Cas," I called out. "Are you seeing this?" He looked up from the bottle he had been reading, and nodded.

"I did not know that the Men of Letters had a room like this, with such advanced medication."

"Just wait until we tell Sam and Dean!" I smiled. I looked around a bit longer, then I headed for the door. "Let's keep exploring."

"Do I have to come with you?" Cas asked, trying not to sound rude.

"Yes, you do," I replied, wandering off down the hall. I went about ten yards before I came across another door. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I groaned. I eyed the door, contemplating if I could kick it in. I'd seen Sam and Dean do it hundreds of times, and it didn't look that hard. I took a step back, then swung my leg, kicking my foot against the door. It didn't budge, but I cringed in pain. Dumb idea, I thought to myself. "Hey Cas, use your angel powers and get this door open."

Cas stepped up to the door, and tried the handle. The door swung open. He flashed me a grin. "I wonder what lies in here?"

We stepped through the doorway, and Cas flicked the light switch. As a few dim bulbs flickered to life, I looked around the room. Along the walls were kennels, like you would see in a dog pound. I stepped up to one, and was surprised to see a small figure, curled up on the floor inside of one. It's chest was rising and falling, letting me know it was alive, only sleeping.

Its head was white and feathered, it's face coming together to form a beak. Its neck was feathery as well, but was met by golden brown fur, which coated its lion-esque body. Resting on its back were a pair of large, feathered wings. Where its feet would be, I was greeted by a set of golden talons. It looked like something straight out of a fantasy novel.

Cas approached the kennel, and he took a look at the creature. "That's a griffin," he breathed."I haven't seen one of those in ages, I thought they had gone extinct." I turned to look at him.

"How long do you think it's been in here?" I asked, looking back towards the creature. I had always imagined griffins to be massive, but this was no bigger than a golden retriever.

"They can hibernate for centuries," Cas supplied. I walked over to a different kennel and was met with a pile of bones. I felt my heart sink. I guess when the Men of Letters left, they didn't have time to let the animals go. And not all of them were as lucky as the griffin.

I glanced into the rest of the kennels, but all I found was more remains. I circled back to Cas, who had stayed by the griffin.

"So what do we do about it?" I asked, gesturing towards the sleeping creature. "We can't just leave it here."

"We could try waking it up?" Cas suggested.

"But can't griffins breathe fire?" I asked, remembering a mythology book I had read in second grade.

"Good point, Dean would probably kill us if we burn the place down." Cas winced at the thought.

"Well, what if it's a nice griffin?" I suggested.

"Who said they were bad to begin with? They were supposedly the guardians of the sky."

"Should I wake it up then?" I reached for the handle hesitantly. Cas shrugged, and I pulled the door open. I stepped inside the kennel, and I cautiously approached the griffin. I put out my hand, and just as I were about to touch it, the griffin's eyes snapped open. I jumped back, and it stood up, stretching it's legs.

It yawned, then sauntered over to me, brushing up against my leg, like a giant house cat. I froze, not wanting to be set on fire.

"I think it likes you," Cas said, smiling.

"Well, what do we do now?" I asked.

"I don't know," Cas said. "Maybe we should feed it."

"What do griffins eat?" I asked, looking down at the creature rubbing against my leg. "Would it eat hamburgers?"

"Sounds reasonable, since both eagles and lions are carnivorous." We exited the room, griffin in our wake. A moment later, we arrived in the kitchen. I pulled a box of pre-made patties out of the freezer, and placed them on a frying pan. As the patties sizzled, I seasoned and flipped.

"So, what are we gonna do with a griffin?" I asked, looking down at the creature. It appeared to be happy and smiling, and it eyed the patties hungrily.

"Sam will most likely find a use for this fire-breathing creature."

"Well, if it's going to stick around, I think it deserves a name," I said, reaching down to pat it's head. "How about Griff?" I realized how basic of a name Griff was, but I didn't really care. I turned to the pan, flipped the patties, then turned back towards Griff. I stroked his feathery head, and he purred.

After a few moments, the patties were ready. I put them on a plate which I placed in front of Griff. He gobbled it down, then smiled up at me, as if asking for more. I laughed. "I think he likes me," I said.

"It would seem so," Cas said, smiling a little bit. He then looked at the wall behind me, his eyes glazing over.

"Cas?" I said, walking up to him. I waved my hand in front of his face. "You okay?"

He held up his hand, shushing me. After a moment, he looked back at me. "I need to go, Sam and Dean need me." Then, he disappeared.

"Bye," I said, even though he was long gone. I looked over to Griff. "I guess it's just you and me then," I said.

Griff burped, and a little fireball popped out of his mouth. I sighed.

* * *

**Okay so I just want to say a few things–**

**-I literally know like nothing about griffins so Griff might not be exactly what the mythology says about him**

**-I'm sick right now and my head is killing me so if there are a bunch of typos that's why**

**-20 something story followers? Thank you so much? People actually like my story?**

**-Please please please leave a review?**

**-I love you forever**

**Fox**


	6. Chapter 6 (announcement- (again) sorry!)

Ok

Hello

I'm back

It's been a month.

I am sorry.

I ran out of ideas.

I have an ending.

But no middle.

So I apologize.

Until I can think of more ideas, POYW is on hiatus again.

Have any ideas?

PM me, or leave a review.

I'm so sorry, I'm terrible.

But seriously.

What do you want to see more of?

Hunts?

Old foes?

Maybe Charlie?

Maybe not?

Also, I'm not caught up on s10 yet, so no spoilers please!

I apologize.

-Fox


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